Escape
by aliis
Summary: Back to square one?
1. Chapter 1

A mirror image of the almost-full moon, glistening on the river, gave the chill dusk a feeling of calm. Pulling her scarf up to her chin, Stacie Monroe quickened her pace across the Millennium Bridge. Long gone were the hordes of commuters returning home from the City. Occasional couples and lone pedestrians like her made their way to and from the theatres, bars and clubs on either side of the Thames. The city's roar had fallen to a hum.

**********

"My round, I think!" declared Albert as he raked the poker chips towards himself. His fellow players grunted resentfully, and one or two even left before he could buy them a consolation drink. Eddie grinned to himself as he lined up several glasses on the bar in anticipation of Albert's largesse.

**********

An impressive sprint got Mickey Bricks onto the bus as it pulled away from Trafalgar Square, heading for Tower Hill. He sank, slightly out of breath, onto a seat and offered his ticket to the conductor. A quick glance at his watch showed he was on time, and he turned on his iPod to pass the journey more enjoyably.

**********

The coolest evening of the autumn. Hyde Park's leaves were crunchy underfoot as Ash Morgan strode along the southbound paths. Hands in pockets, he was deep in thought, and almost absentmindedly hailed a cab as he arrived at Kensington Road. Having given the driver the address of Eddie's bar, he settled back, still pondering on the evening ahead.

***********

"So the gang's all here then, eh?" Eddie said, delivering their drinks to the table.

"Well spotted, Sherlock," retorted Ash. "Now piss off."

With a roll of his eyes and a _tsk_, the bartender disappeared, and Stacie laid a hand on Ash's arm. "You all right?" she asked, looking worried.

"He's fine," Mickey answered instead. "He's just …"

"…hacked off because some people think they can read my mind." Ash drank deeply from his glass and almost slammed it down on the table.

"Come on, Ash, that's no way to welcome an old mate," said a familiar voice from behind Stacie's shoulder. She whirled round, gave a squeal, and leapt up to throw her arms about Danny, who looked as if he'd just stepped out of a Florida holiday brochure. Now it was Ash's turn to cast his eyes upwards.

"'Scuse me," he muttered, squeezing past Stacie and heading for the bar. Mickey followed him.

"Come on, Ash…" he began, putting a comradely arm round Ash's shoulders, only to have it shaken off.

"He disappears for years, comes back here, and it's like nothing ever changed!" seethed Ash. "Stacie made the effort to come home; why couldn't he have done the same? Had to wait until he was deported and didn't have any bloody option. There's no way he can just muscle in and be part of the crew. We've got used to him not being here, he's used to operating under his own steam, and into the bargain he'll expect to be in charge again! No chance." So saying, Ash finished his second scotch and made off into the night, Mickey's protestations unheeded.

"What's the matter with him?" Danny had made himself comfortable in the booth, with Stacie snuggled close. Albert raised a surreptitious eyebrow in Mickey's direction.

"He's just gone out to get some fresh air," was the reply, and Albert motioned Mickey away from the table. They found a quieter spot in the furthest part of the bar.

"I take it Ash isn't as thrilled as Stacie at the return of the prodigal?" asked Albert.

"Not quite, no." Mickey fell silent, at a loss as to how to remedy the situation, or even what to say.

"I'm not sure how to handle him when he's like this. Perhaps it's better to simply let him go for now, blow off some steam," suggested the elderly conman.

Mickey pursed his lips, shook his head, and said, "It's been at the back of my mind ever since I got back from Australia: what will happen if or when Danny returns? I suppose I'd convinced myself it wouldn't ever be an issue, so I never thought it through." He sighed. "And that's left me totally unprepared for Ash's reaction. It's so out of character for him."

"Still waters run deep, Michael," said Albert sagely. "Leave him be for the meantime. More to the point, where are we going to put Danny?"

Mickey groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Can you _imagine _the scene if Ash gets back to our place and finds Danny's got his feet under the table there, too? I don't even want to think about it." He sat up straight, determined now. "He'll need to go somewhere else for the moment."

"Shall you tell him, or shall I?" enquired Albert, rhetorically.

**********

In the end, Danny seemed quite breezy about being politely told there wasn't a place for him in the grifters' current living arrangements. Stacie frowned, but caught Albert's subtle shake of the head, and said nothing. Mickey went out of his way to find a good hotel where Danny could use whatever dodgy method of payment his heart desired, without being detected. That done, and with an impatient Eddie tapping his feet and sighing pointedly, the foursome climbed the steps into what was almost morning.

A few hours later, Mickey was rudely awakened from a sound sleep by the ringing of his phone. Groggy and dry-mouthed, he reached for it and croaked, "Hello?"

"Mickey? It's Danny. Er…I'm in a spot of trouble. Can you come and meet me?"

Mickey's sleep fled and he looked at his watch. "What? Why are you…? Never mind. Where are you?" He flung on a t-shirt and jeans, hopping to the front door while still lacing up a trainer. Stacie appeared as he opened the door to leave.

"What's going on? It isn't even eight o'clock yet. Have we run out of milk or something?" she asked sleepily.

"Yeah, something," replied Mickey. "Won't be long." He shut the door as quietly as he could and went out into the street to look for a taxi.

**********

_Danny sat bolt upright in bed with the noise of hammering echoing round his room in the Excelsior. He rubbed his face to try and wake up from the dream._

"_Police, Mr. Jenkins! Open the door!"_

"_What?! All right, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Danny padded across the floor in a daze and opened the door. Four policemen barged past him into the room, one of whom said, "Better get dressed, sir," at which point Danny realised he had absolutely not a stitch of clothing on. He quickly grabbed the things he'd been wearing the night before and put them on. _

_Meantime, the other three men were literally tearing the room apart. The hotel manager hovered anxiously in the doorway, obviously taking mental note of the damage being done. One of the police officers turned to the man who'd spoken to Danny and said, "Got something here, guv."_

"_You – stay there," Danny was told, and the four men huddled round a bedside table, apparently examining the underside of its drawer. Before you could say, "Sweeney," Danny had eased his way towards the door, slipped the manager a fifty pound note, and vanished downstairs. Lucky thing he'd left his wallet in his jacket pocket._

**********

Danny rubbed his hands together and stamped his feet as he waited outside the riverbank café the gang sometimes patronised. He had gone in to try and buy some breakfast, but the owner remembered him and barred him on the spot. No appeal Danny could make for clemency was entertained, and he was reduced to buying a bacon roll and tea from a nearby snack van.

"Care to explain?" He span round to find himself facing a disgruntled Mickey.

A sheepish grin told the tale and Mickey gave a weary sigh. "You're hardly back in the country five minutes, and already you're in the _merde_," he declared.

"Eh? More like the crapper, I'd say, Mick. Never mind. Wot you up to?" He slapped his old friend on the shoulder as they walked towards the nearest bridge.

Mickey stopped in his tracks. "Whoa, just back up a minute there! It sounded like an emergency on the phone. Why the interest in what _I'm_ up to?"

Briefly taken aback by this rebuff, Danny recovered his aplomb sufficiently to say, "Just interested, Mick, that's all – just wondering what you guys were up to. Why is that so bad?"

Despite his scepticism, Mickey grinned. "Because I know you, Danny, possibly better than you know yourself. What was so urgent that you had to drag me out of bed after barely three hours' sleep?"

"Ah. That. Well, I had a bit of an early morning alarm call meself, as it happens. Know that hotel you booked me into? It looks like someone else knew I was there, too. Got a visit from some cops at sparrow's fart and they ransacked my room. I managed to get away before they slapped the bracelets on me, but they'd found something interesting in a drawer. No idea what," he put up his hands in self-defence as Mickey was obviously about to ask what on earth the police had found that was so fascinating.

"Well, we'd better find somewhere else for you to stay, then. Give me a few minutes." Mickey turned away to make some calls out of earshot. The first one was to Albert. "Any sign of Ash yet? Oh good, that's a relief. Is he speaking to anyone? Just Stacie…all right, I'll see you later. Oh, and Albert – know any out-of-the-way hotels that would suit Danny? He's had some bother from the law this morning without even having to get out of bed."

Another call made, and Danny's new abode was arranged. "Right, let's get you settled," instructed Mickey. Danny seemed reluctant to move from his perch on the embankment wall.

"Isn't there any way I could stay with you guys?" He was like a wheedling, petulant child. Mickey groaned inwardly.

"Not for the moment, Danny. There just isn't enough space for one more – not even your good self. Come on, the Euro International Hotel awaits!" He led the way to the main road to look for a taxi.

**********

"Bloody hell, Mickey, when you said 'Euro International' I was thinking lots of flags and a posh doorman…not this!" Danny stood taking in the view of a slightly crumbling terraced hotel in a less-than-salubrious part of west London.

Mickey managed to keep a straight face and reassured him, "It's the perfect place for staying under the radar. If you want the police to find you again, we can always get you into the Sheraton or somewhere like that…"

"No, no, it's fine!" Danny replied in an almost panicky voice. "Lead on, Macduff." He indicated for Mickey to go first up the hotel steps, but was met with yet more rejection.

"I promised Stacie I wouldn't be long. You make yourself comfortable, catch up on some sleep, and I'll call you later, OK?" Mickey answered, hailing yet another taxi.

"But I'm not tired!" Danny protested, following him to the kerbside.

"Go shopping for some new clothes then!" was Mickey's parting advice as he climbed into the cab. "Portman Street," he told the driver.

**********

"That you, Michael?" called Albert as the door to their suite banged shut.

"It's me," confirmed Mickey. Albert nodded towards the dining table where Ash and Stacie were obviously deep in conversation. Mickey looked at them and sat down next to Albert, asking quietly, "Any idea what was the matter with him last night?"

"Nobody likes change," was the reply. "I noticed a definite downturn in his mood the day we received word of Danny's impending return. I thought perhaps it would just be temporary, but it seems to have gotten worse. I haven't had more than a grunt out of him today."

"Like you said, we'll just leave him. He'll snap out of it sooner or later." Returning to business, Mickey went on, "What's the word on the mark?"

"I wouldn't advise running with this one, Michael. The man has a nose like a bloodhound for trouble. He suspects everybody and trusts nobody. I think we should drop him, for now at least. If we back off for a bit it may have the desired effect – reverse psychology, if you will."

Mickey nodded in deference to his mentor's opinion.

"What's the story with Danny?" Albert asked, and listened carefully as Mickey explained. "Hmmm. That's very strange, particularly as he's only just re-entered the country. Sounds rather like someone was waiting for him, wouldn't you say?"

Mickey considered for a moment. "I'm not sure, Albert. Certainly I think he's been watched and targeted, but I don't know if he's been singled out because he was asked to leave America, or if it was just plain bad luck. I thought I might go back to the hotel and see if I can pick up any clues…"

"Let me do that. You need to stay here and try and mend some fences." Albert got up and fastened his jacket button. "I don't want to gain Danny at the expense of another member of the crew." He indicated Ash with a slight nod of his head.

"I'm not sure I want to gain Danny, period," was Mickey's long-suffering response, causing Albert to chuckle softly to himself as he left.


	2. Chapter 2

"But you seemed fine about him being in charge when we were in the States…" Stacie was bemused by Ash's ill-will towards Danny.

"Did I have a choice? Albert didn't want to do it, and neither did I. You didn't seem interested in taking it on. Danny got it by default, but he acted as though it was his by right." Ash obsessively micro-folded and unfolded a piece of paper in order to avoid looking at Stacie, who couldn't think of an answer to the question. She looked round as Albert left, and when she turned back to continue the conversation, Ash had dematerialised off to his room. With heavy heart, she got up and walked over to where Mickey was lying back, relaxing, in an armchair. She poked him on the arm and flopped down on the sofa opposite.

Slowly opening his eyes, Mickey scanned the room and realised they were on their own. "What's happening?" he asked, choosing his words with care.

Stacie assumed he meant Ash. "He's just concerned that Danny is going to put the hard word on you so that he can take over as leader again."

Mickey snorted, amused. "Yeah, like that's gonna work," he drawled. "Who came up with this 'leader' thing, anyway? Since when did grifters have a title for who comes up with the plans? It's only ever been implicit; unspoken, yet understood."

"I think Albie may be partly to blame there," mused Stacie. "He really wound Danny up with that Henderson Challenge business, and even though he explained in the end that it was all a hoax, I don't think Danny ever quite got his head around the fact that it wasn't for real. He truly believed that grifters needed to know who was best, and that the best person ought to be their 'leader'." Stacie made quotation marks in the air with her fingers to illustrate her disdain for the idea.

Mickey's head rolled slowly from side to side in disbelief, although still with a smile on his face. "You can see where Ash is coming from," he pointed out. "It gets on your nerves after a while."

"Tell me about it!" Stacie threw herself back in the sofa, and ran her hand through her hair in frustration. "Try putting up with it for months and only occasionally having the so-called 'expert' come up with anything workable. The number of times we had to pull his conkers out of the fire…well, it doesn't bear thinking about."

"Albert's filled me in on a few of the things you got up to. Danny sounds like he did all right…"

"…but he made such a big deal of it every time that Ash got sick to the back teeth with him," Stacie explained. "And then there was the year or so I was working with him after Ash and Albert came home." Her eyes took on a glassy look, then she shook the feeling off. "I really would rather not repeat the experience," she said with heartfelt finality.

Mickey decided to tell her about Danny's most recent brush with the law, and had just launched into the story when Ash came into the room and stood, hands in pockets, at the far end of the sofa.

"Mick," he said, and his tone of voice was unmistakably that of someone who wanted a serious word in private.

Stacie got up and said lightly, "Well, I haven't had any retail therapy for almost a week, so I think a trip to the shops is definitely called for." She collected her jacket from the back of a chair, picked up her bag, and bade the two men goodbye as she set off for the largest department store she could think of.

Ash took her place on the sofa and sat forward, looking soberly at Mickey. "We need to talk," he said ominously.

"So talk," was the laconic reply. But Mickey was now totally focused on what his friend was saying, his body language, his tone of voice, everything. He knew that the moment when it would be down to either Danny or Ash had arrived a lot sooner than he had anticipated.

"What's happening with Danny?" Well, at least Ash was being direct about it. Mickey weighed his response with caution.

"He's staying at a dive of a hotel near Wormwood Scrubs. I thought it best to put him there out of harm's way," he said casually.

"And?" Ash wasn't giving any quarter.

"And I have no idea what he's doing. Honestly." Mickey reckoned that a similar economy of words might suit his purpose, too.

It was a bit of a struggle, but Ash managed to remain patient as he went on, "Is he back for good? I'm assuming he's not going to stay at the hotel indefinitely."

"He did ask if he could come and stay here, but I categorically told him no. You probably know as much about his future plans as I do."

The crumb of comfort seemed to work. Ash visibly relaxed at the news of Danny being given short shrift.

Mickey plumped for seizing the bull by the horns, and, leaning forward, asked, "And what about you?"

Ash was taken aback. "Eh?"

"You. You've been like a bear with two sore heads since last night. Care to let me in on it?"

There was a difficult pause, and then Ash spoke. "I couldn't work with him again, Mick. Not if my life depended on it. He's bloody insufferable."

"You managed it for five years," Mickey pointed out, full knowing what kind of response he'd get.

"That was before you left. You and Albert together managed to keep him in check, but once you were gone and he became our self-appointed commandant – it's not funny, Mick - it was a nightmare. Why d'you think we went our separate ways in the States? Albert and I had both had enough. He was the one who saved our bacon when the Vegas mob were after us. It was no thanks to Danny that we managed to get out of that."

"What about Stacie? She seemed happy enough to go along with him for a while."

"D'you think my head zips up the back?!" Ash was getting all fired up now. "I heard her telling you, not five minutes ago, that he drove her crazy when they were working out west."

"Yes, she did, but I just wanted to hear your point of view," replied Mickey calmly.

"Bottom line is, he thinks we're just going to take him on like we did the first time. And I can promise you that if he comes back on board, you won't see me for dust."

"Oh, come on, Ash, you don't mean that." Almost instantly the words had left his lips, he regretted it. Ash's face wore the coldest, hardest look Mickey had ever seen. Silently, the fixer got to his feet, walked away a few paces, then turned to look at his friend.

"When have you ever known me to say something to you that I didn't mean? We've been oppos for more years than I care to count. I've seen you at your lowest, and you likewise with me. Have I ever been anything less than straight with you?"

"No, of course not. We…" Mickey stopped as Ash raised a hand to indicate he hadn't finished saying his piece.

"Then believe me when I say that I will never work with Danny Blue again. Ever. The guy does my box in. He's arrogant, crass, greedy…I could go on, but why bother? He's not even worth the effort, in my book."

"I take your point, Ash. But he's a good grifter. We can always use another hand."

"Then get Sean back."

The penny dropped.

Mickey stood to face Ash, incredulous that he hadn't seen it. "Sean. Is that what this is about? You've been missing Sean?"

"We trained him up, he learned fast, he could improvise with the best of them – and he knew his limitations. Plus, he was a real team player, something Danny doesn't understand _or_ care about. If we get anyone back, it should be Sean, not Danny."

"They wanted to move on, Ash. I couldn't make them stay – and believe me, I tried. Emma wasn't going to be persuaded, and Sean wasn't going to let her go alone. I think he would have stayed if she'd not been going so far, but the idea of her grifting on her own in Rome worried him too much. So that was it. But you know all that."

"Yes, I do. I also know that if you two had got together there wouldn't have been any question of her leaving." This was obviously the day for being blunt.

Mickey shook his head wryly. "I think you're reading something into our working relationship that was never there."

"Only just! I saw the way you two used to look at each other. The only thing keeping you apart was, ironically, Sean. He saw it, too."

"He was just being an overprotective brother. Ash, there was nothing _to _see!" Mickey was starting to protest a little too much. "Anyway, it's all academic. They're not coming back, and as far as I'm concerned for the moment, neither is Danny."

"'For the moment'," echoed Ash, accusingly.

**********

Albert left the Excelsior hotel after a rather pleasant afternoon tea. The Devon scones had been particularly noteworthy. He gave a satisfied sigh, then paused to look up and down the street.

"Can I get you a cab, sir?" the top-hatted concierge enquired.

"Ah, no, thank you, I think a brisk walk is in order. Too much pastry!" replied Albert good-humouredly, patting his stomach.

The man smiled back. "Very good, sir."

Albert started off at a leisurely pace in the general direction of home. He paused to buy a newspaper, then detoured through the park to find a bench on which to sit and read. He flicked the paper open, and five minutes later had nodded off.

Danny groaned. It was as if the old man knew he was following him, and was deliberately trying to prevent him from finding out where the crew were staying. He looked at his watch and then sat down on a swing to wait.

**********

"Albert's texted me," announced Stacie, from the middle of a pile of shoeboxes.

"Anything to report?" Mickey asked.

There was a pause while Stacie read the message and then sniggered, "Danny's trying to follow him."

"Good grief. Did he really think Albert wouldn't spot him? What an idiot."

"My money's definitely on Albie. He's far too long in the tooth to let Danny get the better of him. I can't wait to hear how he manages to ditch him."

About twenty minutes later and somewhat out of breath, Albert arrived back at the crew's HQ.

"Albie!" Stacie greeted him enthusiastically, then realised he was agitated about something. He walked past her and found Mickey on the balcony.

Mickey also noticed at first sight that something was amiss. "Danny?" he asked, concerned.

"I don't know what happened, Michael. I was sitting in the park, reading my paper, and Danny was watching me from the playground. Next thing I knew, there was a SWAT team, police dogs, and he was hauled off in an unmarked van. He didn't even have time to shout out. I'm worried that he's got himself in over his head with some seriously heavy people."

"Stacie!" Mickey called as he walked back into the room. "Are you still in touch with that detective in Vice?"

"She's transferred to the Serious Crime Unit, but yes, we go for a drink every few months to catch up. Why?"

"I need to know why Danny was picked up by armed police in Battersea Park twenty minutes ago. Can you find out?"

"On it." Stacie found her friend's number and rang it. "Sandra, how are you? Not bad, thanks…no, actually I'm a bit worried about a friend of mine. Seems he was taken into custody this afternoon and I'm trying to find out why…yes, his name's Danny Blue…Battersea Park…" she looked up at Albert, who was pantomiming a sniper – "…apparently by armed officers. Can you? That would be fantastic. Yes, please do, as soon as you know. Thanks, Sandra, I'm very grateful. Bye." She put the phone down on the table. "It'll probably take her a little while to track him down. She says there's also the possibility that she won't be able to get any information, if by any chance he's been arrested for certain offences. But that's not likely…"

"What, like terrorism? I can't see even Danny attracting the attention of the security services!" declared Mickey, alarmed all the same.

Albert looked around. "Where's Ash?"

Stacie and Mickey exchanged glances.

"He's been in his room for a couple of hours. Shall I get him for you?" Stacie replied, gesturing towards Ash's bedroom door.

"No, that's all right, I just wondered if he'd gone out for a while," explained Albert.

Stacie's phone rang, making her jump. "Hello, Sandra…I see…and how long will they be holding him for? On what grounds?...who?" Her brow furrowed. "Right. OK, I really appreciate your getting back to me so quickly…that's terrific. Thanks _so _much. We'll need to meet up for lunch soon…talk to you again. Take care!" She turned to face Albert and Mickey.

"Danny was arrested, after an anonymous tip-off, on suspicion of supplying crack cocaine and carrying a firearm. Naturally they didn't find any such thing on him, so he'll be released without charge in the next half-hour, from Battersea Bridge police station."

Mickey grabbed his jacket and made for the door, and Albert and Stacie followed.


	3. Chapter 3

"Thanks, guys, you don't know what this means to me…"

"Save it." Mickey went quickly down the steps to the pavement. He flagged a taxi down, then to the amazement of the others, hailed a second one. "Albert, Stacie, I'll see you later. Danny and I are going to have a chat." He shoved Danny into the back of the first cab, got in, and shut the door, leaving a puzzled pair plus a cabbie asking, "Where to, miss?"

Danny, too, was unsure what was happening.

"Euro International Hotel, please," Mickey instructed their driver, and sat back in his seat, adjusting his jacket. "So, Danny, why do the police think you're a tooled-up drug pusher?"

"I have _no_ idea!" Danny gesticulated wildly. "I was just…sitting in the park, minding my own business…"

"…tailing Albert," corrected Mickey, poker-faced.

"Was he there too?"

Mickey tutted and glared at Danny.

"OK, OK," he conceded. "I went back to the Excelsior to see if I could sneak in and get my bags. Then Albert showed up, and I followed him because I wanted to see you guys again. Was that so wrong?"

"Well, something you did must have been wrong, because if, as you say, you're not involved in any of the things you were picked up for, you must have pissed off somebody enough for them to try and frame you. Or at least send you a warning."

Danny stared back in disbelief. "What, you're saying somebody tried to set me up?"

"It's not beyond the realms of possibility, is it, Danny? I mean, you didn't return to England because you missed steak and kidney pudding or the royal family - you were deported and had nowhere else to go. That has to indicate that somebody, somewhere, has taken a bit of a dislike to you, wouldn't you say?"

A sulky look came into Danny's eyes. "I was coming back anyway," he protested, not very convincingly.

Mickey saw it was useless to try and get him to admit he'd been forced into anything. "Let's try and stay focused on what's happening now, shall we? Who else knew you were coming back, apart from us?"

Danny pondered on this for a few seconds. "Nobody! I texted you from immigration when the security guard was out of the room." He smirked at the thought.

"All right, who else did you call?" demanded Mickey, his suspicions growing by the minute.

"Like I said, nobody here. There was this gorgeous weather lady…"

"_Danny!_ You just said nobody else knew!" Mickey was infuriated.

"Yeah. Nobody _here_." Danny seemed unable to see the conflict, and

Mickey realised he would have to spell it out in words of one syllable.

"Think about it, Danny: if you were able to get a message to me across the Atlantic, what would prevent your weather girl from doing something the same if she wanted to?"

"Amy? Naaahhhhh." Danny grinned fondly at the memory.

"Oh, for goodness' sake! Give me your mobile." Mickey held out his hand.

"What! No way…"

"Danny, if you want us to help you, you need to co-operate. Come on, hand it over."

With deep reluctance, Danny drew an iPhone from his pocket. "Now, this has got all my…" Mickey snatched the device unceremoniously from his hand, and began going through the contacts.

"I'll get Ash to vet these and find out if there are any security issues with the phone itself," he announced, putting it away.

"What about me?! How am I supposed to…" Again, Danny wasn't allowed to finish, but was handed a very basic mobile, which he regarded with suspicion and distaste.

"There's ten quid on it. Don't spend it all at once, and _don't_ contact Amy – or anybody else – until we tell you it's safe to do so. Right, I'm off. You carry on, and stay out of trouble – better yet, stay in your hotel room and don't annoy anyone else," lectured Mickey. He leaned forward, asked the driver to pull over and let him out, and instructed him to continue on to Danny's hotel. "I'll be calling you on your room phone," was his final attempt to ensure the outcast behaved himself.

**********

"I thought I'd find you here," murmured Mickey as he slid into the booth to face Ash.

"You mean, you rang Eddie and he told you I was keeping Jack Daniels company," was the reply.

"Boy, you really are in the mood for plain speaking, aren't you?" Mickey shook his head wistfully.

"I figured it was about time." Ash topped up his glass, and signalled for Eddie to bring another so that Mickey could join him.

"Just my usual, please, Eddie," Mickey called across to the bartender, who obliged by bringing him a tall orange juice, then discreetly left the pair to their conversation.

"Ash, nobody's going to force anybody to do anything they don't want to do – and that includes accepting Danny back into the crew. I'm serious," he added for emphasis, as Ash looked up in surprise. "If necessary, we'll take a vote on it, and it would need to be unanimous in favour of him returning. Of course, that would go for Sean as well, if the circumstances were such…"

Ash had been toying with his drink as Mickey spoke, making him hard to read. Now he sat back and exhaled. "I'm a realist, Mick; I know there isn't a snowball's chance of Sean giving up _la dolce vita_ to come back to us…"

"…Emma even less so," interjected Mickey ruefully.

A lopsided grin tugged at Ash's mouth as he carried on, "…but I wouldn't expect him to get preferential treatment if he did – it'd still have to be a joint decision. But you know how I'd vote if it came to it with Danny."

Nodding philosophically, Mickey leaned on the table, arms folded. "I'm not here to try and change your mind, Ash. Obviously we've moved on as a team, and as individuals, since we all last worked with Danny, and a lot of water's gone under the bridge. And I'm sure you've got a good idea of how Albert and Stacie feel about him."

"Stacie's a tough one to call," observed Ash. "On one hand she was excited about him coming home and happy to see him again, but on the other hand, she doesn't have especially happy memories of working with him in the States."

Mickey shook his head. "I'm pretty sure that while she'd be fine with Danny as a friend, having him as a colleague again would be a very different story. And as far as I'm concerned, his being part of the crew now wouldn't be a wise move."

There wasn't much more that could be said. The two men finished their drinks, the atmosphere a lot less strained than at the start.

Mickey broke the silence conversationally. "It looks like Danny got himself in tow with a _femme fatale_ in Washington – hence his arrival back on these shores. Unfortunately trouble seems to follow him wherever he lands."

"Police?" Ash asked.

Mickey nodded in reply. "They got a tip he was dealing drugs and carted him off at gunpoint." He raised an eyebrow at Ash's amused expression. "Could've been nasty!" he said by way of a reprimand.

"I somehow doubt it," countered Ash, still smiling. "When have you known Danny to have anything to do with drugs, apart from that run-in we had with lovely Inspector York?" He hesitated, then seemed to forge ahead with what he wanted to say. "I knew perfectly well that they wouldn't find anything more incriminating on him than some bent credit cards."

Mickey's jaw almost hit the table. "Are you telling me that _you_ were the anonymous tipster?" When Ash's nod confirmed this, Mickey stared at him incredulously. "What the hell did you hope to accomplish, Ash?"

"Just wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. He still needs reminding that he's as vulnerable as the rest of us." Ash rose to go. "Incidentally, I had nothing to do with him being deported. If I'd had my way, he'd have been granted American citizenship and allowed to stay there forever."

It was only once Ash had left that Mickey realised he had totally forgotten to ask him to check out Danny's phone. He slumped forward onto the table, hiding his face in his folded arms. What a bloody day! And it wasn't even over yet…

His phone rang. "We've got a problem, Mickey."

Why did the hairs stand up on the back of his neck at the tone of Stacie's voice? "What's up?" he asked, although he didn't particularly want to know the answer.

"I got a bit of a garbled voicemail message from Danny, something about the hotel and being asked to go somewhere he didn't like the sound of…it was all very confused. I think he was still at his hotel, though."

"I'll meet you there, then. Albert knows where it is." Mickey ended the call, tossed the money for his drink at a startled Eddie, and flew up the stairs into the street. He had to run half a block before he found a taxi, which managed to get him to the Euro International in record time.

Albert was waiting on the hotel steps. "Stacie's inside, sweet-talking the young man on the reception desk," he explained helpfully as they walked into the lobby.

Stacie saw them, finished her conversation and came over. "From what I can gather, about forty-five minutes ago a group of six men turned up and asked Marius, the receptionist, for Danny's room number. They claimed he was a terrorist suspect. Unbelievably, he'd checked in under his own name" – here Albert and Mickey tutted and pulled incredulous faces – "and when one of them flashed some sort of ID card, Marius just caved and told them. They went charging upstairs and brought Danny down. All Marius could see was that they put him in the back of some kind of dark-coloured van." She lowered her voice and added, "I think Marius was a bit intimidated by it all, they definitely put the wind up him."

She and Albert looked at Mickey hopefully. When he remained silent, they looked at each other. At last, Albert said, "Michael?"

Without making any reply, Mickey turned and went out of the hotel. Alarmed, Stacie went after him, followed by a somewhat resigned Albert. On the pavement, Stacie collared Mickey. "What's going on? We have to help him, Mickey! I'll call Sandra again," she finished decisively, pulling her phone out of her handbag.

Mickey gave a noncommittal shrug and started to walk away. As they followed, Albert put a hand on Stacie's arm and said, "Don't bother your friend. There's only so many times you can call in a favour, and you don't want to wear out that particular marker, my dear."

Stacie gawped at the apparent indifference of the two of them. "He's your friend too, Albert," she said in a very reproachful voice.

"I know he is, but what kind of friends would we be if every single time Danny got himself into hot water, we pulled him out again? He'd never learn that every action has its repercussions and that in real life, you can't always escape them."

"He's right, Stacie. It's time we let Danny show us what he's really made of." So saying, Mickey headed for a nearby Thai restaurant that happened to be a favourite of his.

"I'm going to call Ash anyway," answered Stacie obstinately. A cross frown told the others that she hadn't succeeded in getting hold of him. "He'd better check his voicemail," she muttered, implying that there would be dire consequences if he didn't.

**********

"You there!" The imperious voice shook the desk sergeant from his crossword puzzle and biscuits.

"Yes, sir!" He jumped to attention and tried to surreptitiously brush some crumbs from his tunic.

"ADC Morris for Detective Inspector Oakley. See that he's told I'm here. And I don't care to be kept waiting, either." Having delivered this speech, the Assistant District Commissioner strode around the front office a few times, inspecting notice boards and dust layers. DI Oakley was informed of his presence in short order, and produced himself at his superior officer's behest.

"I hear you're holding a terrorist suspect," announced Morris.

"Yes, sir." Unsure what Morris's connection to the case was, Oakley asked tentatively, "Would you like to speak to the prisoner, sir?"

"That's why I'm here, man! Good grief, does everybody round here operate on single-figure brain cells? Take me to him!"

Obeying at once and partly in fear for his life, Oakley conducted the ADC to the custody area. The presence of so much gold braid and a military-style moustache made all present unaccountably nervous, as was evinced by the dropped papers, spilt tea and hushed tones of the rank and file.

Oakley instructed the custody officer to take them to the cells, and the three men gazed in on the hapless Danny.

"Right," barked Morris, "open up." He thrust a printed form into Oakley's hand. "He's to be taken to Paddington Green. Can't think why the hell he was brought here in the first place."

Oakley hesitated, and was immediately sorry for it. "Well, man? What are you waiting for? Organise transport and a driver, for pity's sake!"

The custody sergeant saved any further blushes by almost running back to his post and commandeering two constables and a patrol car. A handcuffed Danny was brought from the cell and taken out to be placed in the back seat. Without so much as a backward glance, Morris got in beside the prisoner, and ordered the driver to make for Paddington Green. A prickly silence descended on the car's occupants, and remained until the car had stopped at a set of traffic lights, at which point both Danny (now mysteriously un-cuffed) and ADC Morris got out of the back seat and legged it for all they were worth. The two PCs in the front of the car looked at each other with a mixture of disbelief and horror.

**********

"Wow, cheers, Ash!" Both men were bent almost double, and Danny clapped his rescuer on the back as they gasped for breath about half a mile away. It had soon become apparent that the officers in charge of the patrol car were not in hot pursuit, and the alley off a familiar back street provided the two fugitives with safety for the time being.

Ash peeled off his moustache and said, between gulps for air, "Don't ever put me in a position like that again, Danny."

"I promise…," puffed the miscreant. "What position?"

Wearily, Ash replied, "Just…don't. All right? I helped you out as a favour for Stacie."

"You're getting too old for this malarkey," grinned Danny, and was nimble enough on his feet to avoid a swipe at his head.

"But you'll notice _I'm_ not the one that keeps getting nicked and banged up," retorted Ash. "And if you had any sense at all you wouldn't be in this situation – again." He looked over his shoulder and noticed a very nice Aston Martin Vanquish sitting parked at the end of the lane. Walking casually up to it, he could see that whoever the car belonged to obviously didn't deserve such a wonderful machine, because they had dropped the keys on the ground right next to it. With a fluid movement, he retrieved them, got in the car and started her up. Before Danny could jog the few yards to catch up with him, he was gone.

**********

It was a rather pleasant evening, for autumn, and tootling along the motorway at 105mph was just the perfect way to spend it. Having familiarised himself with all the gadgets and buttons, Ash had found his favourite radio station and was letting some prog rock ruin his eardrums. He smiled contentedly and replayed in his mind the phone conversation he'd had with Stacie before setting off on his journey.

"_You've got him? Oh, that's fantastic, Ash! You are a darling. When will you be back?"_

"_Danny's on the way over to his hotel now, I reckon. Just hang about there and he's bound to turn up. We didn't have time to collect his property at the police station, so he won't have a phone."_

"_Aren't you with him? Where are you?" The note of distress that had crept into Stacie's voice stabbed at Ash's heart, and he convinced himself that he heard the faintest sob as he explained that he would be gone for a while._

"_Take care, Stace, I'll be in touch when I get back." He hung up, lowered the car window, and tossed his mobile into a rubbish bin, then headed for the motorway._

_Distance lends enchantment. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. His dad had been apt to use these age-old sayings, and the longer Ash lived, the longer he realised the truth of them. After all, hadn't Stacie welcomed Danny with open arms when he returned? He, Ash, had learned a valuable lesson from that. If people get used to you, they take you for granted. They don't appreciate what they have until they don't have it any more._

The hills rose all around him and the in-car thermometer dropped below zero. The night sky was crystal clear. Ash pulled over on a country road, got out, and, leaning back on the car, gazed upwards. Countless stars dotted the indigo heavens, and the Milky Way wove itself like a ribbon among them.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, marvelling at the spectacle, but suddenly he felt very cold. Hopping back into the Aston, he revved it up and headed back for the main road. The miles sped by and his thoughts went even further ahead as he saw the sign that said, "Edinburgh: 60".


End file.
